


The Fall 2.0

by toooldtobeonhere



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Minor Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-09-21
Packaged: 2018-04-22 19:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4847315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toooldtobeonhere/pseuds/toooldtobeonhere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Seen the TBBT episode "The Adhesive Duck Deficiency"? Yeah well kinda ran with that...<br/>Molly's hurt herself and Sherlock comes to her aid</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fall 2.0

**Author's Note:**

> So my first story (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4508247) was based on a friends episode. Another (http://archiveofourown.org/works/4558815) was based on a Seinfeld episode...you seeing a pattern here??
> 
> This is my (mangling - sorry) of the Big Bang Theory episode "The Adhesive Duck Deficiency"
> 
> Un-beta'd - so sorry for any mistakes.
> 
> Disclaimer - I don't own Sherlock or TBBT (would be here doing this if I did?!)

Sherlock paced the living room for the umpteenth time. He hit refresh on the open laptop – nothing! He hadn’t had a case in days.

John was away on his “sex-holiday” and Sherlock was bored. He’s already turned the flat upside down in search of cigarettes and/or John’s gun but came up empty handed on both counts. He was on the verge of waking up Mrs. Hudson to make him tea when his phone chimed with a text alert.

 

_You busy? Mx_

 

Sherlock frowned. What would Mycroft want at - he glanced at the phone’s display – 2.14am?

His sleep deprived mind took a second to notice the x. Mycroft did not end his texts with a kiss.

“Molly” Sherlock sighed.

 

_Not really. Why? SH_

_Could you come over? I need a hand. Mx_

_With what? SH_

_Just get over here! It’s an emergency! Mx_

 

Sherlock already had his coat on when he sent his reply.

 

_Do I need to call Lestrade? SH_

_No – just let yourself in when you get here. Hurry. Mx_

 

Sherlock frowned at the reply as he closed the door behind him.

 

* * *

 

 

He let himself in tentatively with the key she’d had cut to deter him from picking the lock again. He quickly surveyed the scene – everything looked normal; no signs of a struggle.

“Molly?” he called out cautiously.

“In here!” came a small voice from the end of the hall.

Sherlock pushed open the bathroom door gently. At first he couldn’t see her – then he looked down.

There in the bottom of the empty bath lay a wet, shivering Molly, half-wrapped in her torn shower curtain.

“I fell” she said sheepishly.

“I can see that” he replied raising a sarcastic eyebrow.

“I think I’ve dislocated my shoulder”

“What?” he said, kneeling down at the side of the bath.

“I ca..came home from my shift and took a shower and I sl...slipped” she said, her teeth chattering.

“How long ago?” he asked taking his coat off.

“I…I…don’t know. About an hour I think.”

“Jesus Molly you’ll get hypothermia” he said draping his coat over her. “Can you move your legs?”

She bent her knees up “I think so.”

“Lean forward” he said.

Molly bent slightly in the middle. She groaned in pain but it turned into a shocked squeak when she felt Sherlock’s arms slip behind her back and under her knees.

She gripped onto his coat for dear life with her good arm – the cool air on her backside reminded her that she was naked. If she wasn’t in so much pain she would be mortified.

He dropped her gently onto the sofa.

“I think we’re going to have to go to the hospital” she said cradling her left arm.

“Can’t you reset it?” he asked.

“My own arm!? No Sherlock. I can’t and unless it’s a skill you’ve suddenly learned…”

“Well there’s always YouTube” he interjected

“No!” she shouted, wincing at the exertion.

“Well let’s go” he said leaning back down to help her up.

“I can’t go like this I’m naked!” Molly exclaimed.

“Ahhh” he said straighten up.

 

* * *

 

 

Molly, now perched on the edge of her bed, watched as Sherlock paced in tiny circles around her room.

“Ok what’s first” he said clasping his hands together.

“Pants” she said. She closed her eyes for a moment; this wasn’t how she’d envisioned Sherlock seeing her knickers for the first time.

He opened the top left drawer – that’s statistically where most people keep their underwear he thought – he smiled when he was right.

When Molly opened her eyes she saw Sherlock looking into her underwear drawer with a grin.

“Which ones?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Any!” she yelled causing her to wince again – she had to stop that!

Sherlock took out a white pair covered in little pink hearts and held them up like he was examining a piece of evidence.

“Just give them here” she said as she snatched them out of his grip.

“Do you need a bra?” he asked turning back to the drawer.

“No I’ll just go without.”

Sherlock felt his face flush at the thought of her without one and thanked god he was facing away from her.

“Oo…ok. What next?” he stuttered as he closed the drawer opening the next one.

“There should be a top and leggings in there somewhere” she grunted.

Sherlock smiled. Like her lab at Barts. Her room here was meticulous too. Neat rows of coloured vests and black leggings sat in her drawer. Most people wouldn’t appreciate this level of fastidiousness – but he wasn’t most people. He shook his head as he realised he was smiling like a lunatic again and pulled them out gently as not to disturb the others.

Molly was oblivious though as she was too busy trying to hook her knickers over a foot with her one good arm while trying not to jostle the other. All while trying to grip Sherlock’s coat to her chest so it didn’t fall and embarrass them both.

She sat back and sighed. “You’re going to have to help me” she said holding her pants in her outstretched hand.

Sherlock stood staring at her; just blinking.

“Sherlock? Sherlock?!” she shouted.

He took the underwear from her and knelt at her feet, allowing her to step one foot in then the other. It was here he realised they’d reached an impasse.

“You’re going to have to…” Molly paused “…pull them up.” She looked down at him.

Sherlock looked between her face and his hands - which were holding a pair of knickers round her calves. This was not how he thought his night would go if he was honest.

“You’ll have to close your eyes” she added.

He looked back to her, his face scrunched in puzzlement.

“You’re not seeing me naked Sherlock” she sighed.

“Ok” he agreed shaking his head as if to say don’t be so silly Molly; it’s just transport. But he was secretly relieved.

Molly waited until he’d closed his eyes (with an exasperated sigh she noted) to stand and drop his coat.

She looked down the length of her naked body and the scene in front of her. His face was mere inches from her…. Molly stifled a giggle.

“What?” he said

“Nothing. I’m ready.”

Sherlock reached forward until he could feel the fabric against her calves. Pulling them up he felt his hand brush her knees and then the outside of her thighs. He was mentally preparing himself to reach behind her to pull them over her bum when he felt the fabric being tugged.

“I can manage from here” she said as his hands felt her wiggle the garment up.

“Can I open my eyes now?” he said

“No!” she said thrusting the leggings into his hands.

He repeated the process again but with a little more grunting and wiggling on Molly’s part.

Without visual information his brain automatically wanted to fill in the missing information based on data that he’d already collated.

 _No, no, no…_ he willed his mind not to but as usual it didn’t listen and image of Molly materialised inches in front of him. From this vantage point his face was in line with her lower belly. Pink love hearts against a white background filled his vision. He tried to concentrate on the tiny pink bow that danced in front of him as she wiggled.

But his mind’s eye was not under conscious muscle control and he cursed it as it panned up her flat, but paradoxically soft, belly.

He’d once caught a glimpse of her abdomen in the morgue when her scrub top had ridden up when she stretched to get a flask down from a shelf. Although it had only lasted a fraction of a second he noticed an appendix scar. But more shockingly was a tiny scar from an old belly button piercing! Although he had no need for this information, his brain refused to delete it and added it to the room marked “Molly – the University years.” He visited this room more than he liked to admit.

The pale scars materialised across the flesh. A tiny voice in the back of his mind asked _what would it feel like to run your fingers across them? What about your tongue?_

Sherlock swallowed thickly. He secretly hope that the light-headedness he felt was because he’d been kneeling for a while.

He was brought out of his reverie by Molly’s voice.

“Can you help with the top now?”

Sherlock stood and swayed slightly. She placed the loop of fabric in his hands and he reached out cautiously – this wouldn’t be the time to poke her in the eye!

Feeling the top of her head he placed the vest over it and pulled it down, feeling the curve of her shoulders.

“Right” Molly said her voice quivering slightly “stretch the top over the elbow.”

He reached down to grasp her elbow when she yelled “gently!”

Sherlock jumped and withdrew his hand.

“I am!” he bellowed back.

Reaching out (slower this time) he waited until fingers hit warm flesh. Once he felt it, he cupped it to ease it into the arm hole – but something was wrong.

“Ehh Sherlock” interrupted Molly “does that feel like my elbow?”

He furrowed his brow. “Not really” he said quietly.

“Well…you should probably let it go.”

Sherlock removed his hand as if he’d been shocked.

 _Did you just grab her boob!?_ said his inner voice – now sounding mockingly like John’s.

 _SHUT UP!_ he screamed silently at it.

 _Thank god his eyes are shut_ thought Molly as her face was beet red. A little wiggling and pulling later, she finally got the top on.

“You can open them now” she said sheepishly.

Sherlock blinked in the bright light and saw he was standing way too close to Molly. He took a respectful step back.

“Ok ready to go?” he said nervously.

“Can you fix my hair?” Molly added.

He looked up – it was a bit dishevelled. “It's fine…it's lovely” he replied with mock cheer.

Molly just looked up with pleading eyes.

“Fine” he sighed. _Damn those cartoonesque brown eyes._

Molly smiled and handed him a hair band from her wrist, “brush is over there” she pointed to the chest of drawers.

Grabbing it he turned back to see she had turned also. A mass of brown damp waves presented itself.

Nervously he pulled the brush through it until it was somewhat smoother and looped the band around; it wasn’t as good as she would have done but he was satisfied with his first attempt.

Molly let out a shaky sigh. She’d always had a thing about someone brushing her hair. Despite the dull ache of her arm, the sensation was still highly pleasurable. I didn’t help that Sherlock was the one doing the brushing.

“There” he said triumphantly.

She turned and smiled. “Thanks”.

“Let’s go” he said picking up his damp coat.

 

* * *

 

 

Four hours later….

 

The sun was coming up by the time Sherlock dragged her back into her flat. Dragged was the operative word. They’d given her some pretty strong pain killers and muscle relaxants in A&E when the re-set the shoulder, so she was, what’s the technical term, he thought. Oh yeah… off her face!

She sniggered as they stumbled through the hall.

“I should have just carried you” groaned Sherlock.

“My hero” giggled Molly.

She fell onto the bed with a small bounce, setting off more giggles.

He pulled her shoes off and threw them in the corner. Molly kicked her legs playfully. “Ticklish” she laughed.

Sherlock smiled despite himself.

He pulled the duvet up to her waist, patted her hip gently and brushed some stray hairs from her face.

He stood to leave when she suddenly mumbled “Thank you.”

He looked down but her eyes we still shut. “It’s ok” he said “it was my pleasure”.

“I ruined your coat though” she slurred sadly.

“I’ve got lots of coats” he smirked.

“…And your suit” she added.

“It's fine” he chuckled “it wasn’t one of my favourites.”

He backed out of the room quietly, letting her drift off.

“…it’s one of mine” she muttered, her words barely audible now “…it makes your arse look amazing…makes me wanna to bite it.”

Sherlock stood in the doorway dumbfounded…and little bit proud.

He smiled and filed that titbit away for later.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
